


do it for the vine

by ElasticElla



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Community: 1-million-words, Crossdressing, Dom Ricky, Dom/sub, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 22:03:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13890054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: Shane blames the internet.Showing up at eight pm on the dot, dressed in the yellow cheerleader uniform that he stretched out and got to keep, was in theory the makings for an amusing bit.





	do it for the vine

**Author's Note:**

> yeahhh we all knew this was coming ever since the william taylor ep  
> written 300% faster because of kait's Ideal [shane/ryan/zack trilogy](https://archiveofourown.org/series/959619), you should def go read that ^.^
> 
> come throw feels at me on [tumblr](http://lesbiancleophas.tumblr.com)

Shane blames the internet. Showing up at eight pm on the dot, dressed in the yellow cheerleader uniform that he stretched out and got to keep, was in theory the makings for an amusing bit. 

Standing on Ryan’s doorstep though, feeling exposed because the pink leggings got ripped and then he _had_ to shave his legs for smooth lines, it doesn’t feel like a joke. The ninety-nine cent lipstick has made another appearance, because Shane wanted to sell it. (Somehow up until this moment he hadn’t asked himself _what_ exactly he was selling.) 

Ryan opens the door before he can decide to knock or go home. 

“The fuck- did I forget about something?” Ryan asks. 

Shane swallows, doesn’t have to fake the nervous waver, “It’s eight o’clock Mr. Goldsworth, sir.” 

Ryan’s entire demeanor changes to Ricky’s in a blink, a smug slump in his shoulder where he now leans against the doorway and a tiny smile on his lips. 

“You’re late gorgeous, thought you weren’t coming.” 

His cheeks burn, unsure if he’s supposed to still be the mayor or instead Tinsley or McClintok. “I was working.” 

Ryan laughs low, hooks a finger in the top’s small vee, pulling Shane closer. “You’re one of mine now. I don’t care about your silly politics.” 

Ah, mayor. Shane can do that, plucks up some indignation. “I have a responsibility to the community-”

“I said, I don’t care about your silly politics,” Ryan repeats, slow and soft.

It sends chills down his spine, and Ryan suddenly lets go of him- his feet stumbling forward. “Come in, _mayor_.”

Shane doesn’t know how Ryan can pack so much contempt into one word, shuffles in trying to squeeze through the opening without pressing against Ryan’s front, only mildly successful. 

Ryan shuts the door behind them, Shane turning to him. He should say something cute, something complimentary about how Ricky feels like his own person more and more. He should stop this failure of a joke, and they can spend the night on Ryan’s xbox.

“What do you expect me to do? Sir?” 

“You missed orientation with the other staff,” Ryan drawls. “Nine hundred and eighty different tasks.”

“I’m sorry sir.” 

“Sorry doesn’t fix it. Sorry doesn’t make you useful.” He pauses delicately, “You want to be useful, don’t you?” 

“Yes Mr. Goldsworth,” Shane answers quickly. 

“And not even in the proper uniform,” Ryan adds, teasing in a way that’s more him than Ricky. “Do you have a feather duster stashed under there?”

Shane flushes, “It’s the only uniform I had.” 

Ryan pats his cheek, “We’ll make sure your tasks are… suited. Follow me.” 

He brings him to the library, grabbing a polishing cloth from the desk drawer. Huh. Shane isn’t complaining, but actual cleaning isn’t how he thought this might go-

“Come here,” Ryan says, handing him the cloth when he does. 

“The statue sir?” Shane asks, the Detective Horsely statue the only thing on the shelves that one might polish. 

“My shoes.” 

Shane hesitates, and Ryan’s amused smile turns real- like Ryan beat him at the game or whatever. And fuck that, Shane’s not stopping yet. 

“Right away sir,” Shane says, sinking to a crouch. He starts with the left shoe, and Ryan keeps his Jordans pristine enough, that he isn’t cleaning but petting his shoes basically. 

Shane doesn’t mean to get lost in the task, it’s zen almost, focusing on one empty gesture. He looks up, curious, and Ryan’s jaw is slack, a bulge in his shorts.

Shane licks his lips, “Sir?”

“You need to leave,” Ryan says, suddenly back in his real voice. 

“What?” Shane doesn’t understand, he thought things were going overly well-

“If you stay,” he says, his voice an odd mismatch of Ryan and Ricky, “I’m going to fuck that pretty lipstick right off your lips.” 

Shane’s sure his brain just short-circuited, the line from one of his late night fantasies he pretends aren’t blatantly about him. 

“Please,” Shane says, but Ryan’s shaking his head, all traces of Ricky gone. 

“We’re gonna talk about this tomorrow,” he says, and fuck Shane’s ready to beg. It might even work if he leans up on his knees, but then- no, Ryan’s right. God he hates when that happens, no matter how rare it might be.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees, standing up. 

.

Once he’s home, Shane goes straight to the shower, his mind overly full of fantasies. They’ve never been so close to real- Ryan fucking his face, Ryan sitting on his cock demanding he be still, Ryan bent over and taking it-

If it’s the fastest he’s orgasmed since he was a teenager, it isn’t like there’s anyone here to judge him. Shane washes himself up, his imagination going wild every time he touches his smooth legs, all the other ways tonight could have ended. 

He wears himself out after he comes the third time, crawling into bed and crashing. 

Tomorrow.

.

Shane enjoys his job. Working at buzzfeed is never ordinary or predictable, and that’s part of the charm. Any given Monday morning might involve being interviewed on who has the best hair or opinions on snack foods. 

Today though, Shane only wants it to be over. It doesn’t help that Ryan’s been perfectly normal all fucking day, whistling as he does some last edits. Shane’s idea doc for the new ruining history episode on the other hand is completely empty. 

Around eleven Jen tags him into a video, Eugene’s sick, and Shane needs the distraction so much he doesn’t even ask what it’s about. 

(Women’s underwear. Four out of five designs he tries on are ridiculously uncomfortable- strings digging places they shouldn’t or with itchy lace. The satin winners are cute and Jen doesn’t even blink when he asks if he can keep them.)

The rest of the afternoon goes better- maybe the break helped, or maybe it’s Ryan being in the sound booth instead of distractedly close. Whatever it is, Shane finishes sketching out an episode on treasure hunters and is digging into the research until the end of the day. 

Shane doesn’t even realize it’s past five, deep into Belzoni’s tomb raiding, until Ryan hops up on his own desk.

“So I was thinking- burritos, beer, and depraved discussions at your place?” 

“Burritos?” Shane echoes. It’s been a while since him and Sara were dating, and sure this is more kinky prep work than a date, but still. 

“Yeah I uh, Ricky won’t be ready until Friday.” 

“Alright,” Shane says, resaving the document and shutting down. “He out of town? At a convention this week?” 

Ryan snorts, “Oh yeah, all the criminals meet up once a month to trade tips.” 

Shane nods, “Gotta stay on top.” 

Ryan blushes, and fuck he hadn’t even meant it like that, heat racing through him. “Yeah, hah,” Ryan stands up, sending his chair spinning as his knee hits it. “Is that take out place near you still open? Eduardo’s?” 

“Yup,” Shane says, gracefully not mentioning that they ate there not even two weeks ago. 

It must still show on his face though, Ryan lightly punching his arm. “Shut up, let’s go.” 

.

Knowing that nothing’s happening with Ricky until Friday, things slip back to almost normal as they pick up their take out and a six pack. There’s the usual cursing other idiot drivers, debating the merits of eating in the car- it smells so good, and aimlessly flipping through radio stations. 

They make it all the way to Shane’s living room, sitting on the floor and food on the low table, when Ryan pulls out a goddamned list. Shane reads the first header _restraints_ upside-down, his face flooding with heat, and fuck, now’s definitely the time to open a beer. 

Ryan rubs the back of his neck, “I thought it’d be easier to discuss options for Friday with a list; I already took off some of the uh, out there things.” 

“Coming from the guy that wants aliens to abduct him and do butt stuff, that must have been _really_ out there,” Shane teases. 

Ryan laughs, “Fuck you man. Okay- being restrained? Yes, maybe, fuck no?” 

“Sure-”

“Rope, handcuffs, clothing?” 

“Not handcuffs, the others are fine,” Shane says, sipping the pale ale. 

Ryan nods, chewing and marking it down. 

“Here, lemme see,” Shane says, taking the list. 

“Ey! We were having a nice discussion,” Ryan complains. 

“We’re not gonna spend hours doing yes/no questions when I can fill this out in five minutes tops,” Shane says. It has nothing to do with the fact that he’s definitely going to have a boner if they sit around talking about kinky things they can do to one another for so long. 

“Jackass,” Ryan mutters, digging into his food. 

Shane hands it back, filled out, attacking the remaining half of his burrito. Eduardo’s really has the best damn guacamole. 

Ryan reads through it, is making notes in the margins for fuck’s sake, and Shane’s beginning to wonder how over the top Friday’s gonna be. 

He wheezes when he gets to the last question, “Shane this cannot be our safeword.” 

Shane raises an eyebrow, “It implies you’re in over your head and need aid.” 

“‘ _Help has arrived- help!_ ’ Dude, one word not four.” 

“Fine, Tinsley.” 

“That poor fucker, alright,” Ryan says, writing it in. 

“Cool, cool,” Shane mutters, sipping his beer.

“Just one more thing,” Ryan says, and Shane’s confused as he pushes all their wrappers and the two bottles to the other end of the table. 

“Hmm-?” 

And then Ryan’s leaning over the table, kissing him. His tongue practically burns from those damn jalapenos Ryan always insists on ordering, kissing him deeper until it fades. 

.

On Friday Shane’s on Ryan’s doorstep again, dressed up nearly the same as before. He’s still nervous, but not bad nervous- not running away nervous- more moving towards something new nervous. While they’ve hooked up a few times through the week, they haven’t done more than kissing, and Shane is beyond ready for more. 

This time he knocks. 

Ryan answers the door in a goddamned suit, all sleek dark lines. 

“Fuck me,” Shane mutters, blushing hot when he realizes it was out loud. 

Ryan smiles, his slow Ricky smile. “I see you’ve found a new way to make yourself useful mayor. Come in.” 

Shane does, and Ryan closes the door behind him, stepping into his space. Somehow even when Shane’s at least three feet taller than him, Ryan manages to be imposing like this. 

“Do you want to get on your knees for me?” he asks. 

And Shane doesn’t care if it’s a joke or an icebreaker or whatever, sinks down immediately, thin rug barely cushioning his fall. For a moment he wonders if Ryan will have him actually shine his shoes tonight- the dark leather shoes replacing his usual Jordans. 

Ryan tilts his chin up, his thumb pressing against his mouth. “Getting yourself prettied up for a criminal, what would your constituents think?” 

Shane opens his mouth to answer, and Ryan’s thumb goes in, stroking his tongue. 

“Just a wanton little mayor, begging to get fucked.” 

Shane moans, closing his lips around the finger, tongue curling about to lick every inch of it. He almost whimpers when Ryan takes his hand back, wiping his spit on the top of his outfit. Shane has a feeling the cheerleader uniform is going to be permanently stained by the night’s end, is happy to sacrifice it to the cause.

“S’okay,” Ryan soothes, petting his hair. “You need more don’t cha baby?” 

“Yes please,” Shane says, tempted to sass him. He’d rather get what he wants now though, push Ryan’s buttons another night. As Ryan’s already undoing his slacks, Shane _definitely_ made the right call. 

“Open your mouth,” Ryan says, and Shane does, his cock not even a breath away. “Only your mouth, no hands okay?” Ryan adds.

“Yes sir,” Shane agrees quickly. “May I?” 

An almost laugh floats down from above, “You may.” 

And Shane leans in, swallowing down all he can at once. He chokes himself, ears burning, he hasn’t done this in a while and just _wanted_ all of Ryan at once. 

“Easy pretty boy,” Ryan coos, fingers weaving through his hair. 

He takes a deep breath before trying again, slowly working his mouth down Ryan’s cock. The smear of lipstick around the base taunts him, even more when he can’t get to those last few inches. Shane looks up as he hums, and Ryan curses, fingers tugging on his hair. He looks even more gorgeous than usual, bliss plastered across his face and eyes half-shut.

He tries again, reinvogorated by Ryan’s euphoria, but he still can’t get that last inch. He tries to force it, choking harshly as he pulls off Ryan’s dick. 

“Easy,” Ryan says, a demand this time. 

“No, I’m gonna get it,” Shane says stubbornly. He’s a big person, he has a big mouth, and even if Ryan is by no means little, there’s no reason he shouldn’t be able to fit his entire cock down his throat. 

“I don’t think you heard me,” Ryan says softly, and fuck. Absently he’s been aware of being turned on since he stepped through the door, but his blood burns at Ryan’s tone. “I’ll use you however I want,” he says, hand slowly stroking up and down his dick. “I could come on the floor and watch you lick it up mayor.” 

Shane gulps- the rational half of his brain screaming at how unsanitary the floor is and how gross cold come tastes, the rest of him too turned on and willing. 

“You’re gonna open your mouth, that’s _all_. No moving anything, got it?” 

“Yes sir,” Shane says, holding his mouth open. 

“Good,” Ryan murmurs, but doesn’t move any closer. His stomach twists at the thought of Ryan jerking off over his face, a fitting punishment he supposes, but dammit he wants more. 

“Lip gloss goes over the lipstick Shane, don’t you remember from the make-up vid?” 

The question completely throws him: partly because it’s their real selves and partly because he isn’t sure where Ryan’s going with this. It isn’t like he has a tube of lip gloss in his pocket-

“Be still,” Ryan says, back in the Ricky voice. 

Ryan inches closer and drags the head of his leaking cock all over Shane’s lips. It takes all his control not to just slip his mouth over his dick, really he deserves an award for that. 

“Fuck,” Ryan hisses when he’s done, finally grabbing Shane’s head and pressing his cock in. It’s saltier than before, and Shane barely has a moment to process that, Ryan rapidly thrusting in and out of his mouth, going deeper each time. 

Shane breathes loudly through his nose, still chokes a bit, reminding himself over and over to be still. Not to suckle or swallow or lick, next time. Next time when he’s good, Ryan will let him. 

His jaw begins to ache, and Shane ignores it, ignores all his physical feelings. He stares up at Ryan instead through watery eyes, needs to memorize this moment. 

“There,” Ryan says, bringing Shane back to present. His nose is buried in Ryan’s groin and oh- he has all of him. Shane swallows by mistake, but Ryan groans instead of chastises, tugging on his hair as he comes. 

Ryan pulls out, wiping his dick dry on the outfit’s shoulder, and Shane’s sharply reminded that he’s hard and aching. 

“Stand up,” Ryan says, and Shane does, feeling a little light headed. Somehow he’d forgotten that they hadn’t even left the apartment’s entryway, his dick twitching at the thought. 

Ryan flips his skirt up, tucking it in. “Aren’t these pretty,” he says, drawing a finger against the strained satin. “White panties though? Doesn’t seem right for an easy harlot like you.” 

Shane groans as Ryan’s finger presses against the top of his cock, silky smooth warmth. He’s already so close, if Ryan would take off the damn thing-

“You’re gonna come for me,” Ryan says, grasping his dick, and Shane’s gone, soaking the panties. 

Shane comes down a blink later, sticky mess in his underwear quickly becoming uncomfortable. 

“Hey, you okay?” Ryan asks, fully back to himself. 

Shane laughs- a little too loudly, his throat raw. “Yeah that was good. A lot, but good. Is there a post-game analysis?” 

Ryan chuckles fondly, “Yeah, in the bath. C’mon, let’s get you clean.” 

Shane wriggles his eyebrows, “Gonna get me dirty again Mr. Goldsworth?” 

Ryan tweaks one of his cufflinks with a wink, and his oversensitive cock aches. 

“Maybe. Bath first.” 

And Shane has never been so excited to use Ryan’s tiny sink of a bathtub.


End file.
